第 1 章
The Design Revolution That Changed Everything
Have you ever wondered why some products feel intuitive while others leave you frustrated? Why your iPhone seems to anticipate your needs while your car's dashboard remains bewildering? The answer lies in a quiet revolution that has transformed our world over the past century. "User-Friendly" by Cliff Kuang with Robert Fabricant traces this remarkable journey, revealing how design evolved from merely making things look attractive to fundamentally reshaping how humans interact with technology. This New York Times Notable Book has become required reading in design schools worldwide and earned praise from tech leaders at Google, Microsoft, and beyond. The book's insights have proven so influential that companies now routinely cite its principles when developing new products. What makes this exploration particularly compelling is how it connects seemingly disparate dots-from nuclear disasters to smartphone interfaces-to tell the story of how we taught machines to understand humans, rather than forcing humans to understand machines.
第 2 章
When Machines Fail Us: The True Cost of Poor Design
On March 28, 1979, Fred Scheimann rushed to investigate a clog in the basement of Three Mile Island nuclear facility. As he worked, a pipe suddenly burst, narrowly missing him. In the control room above, chaos erupted as operators faced a bewildering array of eleven hundred dials, gauges, and six hundred warning lights. Critical information was "squirreled away out of sight," making it impossible to understand what was happening. In the confusion, operators made a catastrophic decision to turn off emergency pumps because they misinterpreted pressure readings, not realizing the core was beginning to destroy itself.
The disaster stemmed from a fundamental design flaw: the PORV (pilot-operated release valve) light indicated only that the switch had been flipped, not whether the valve had actually closed. This critical misdesign meant operators had no way to know the reactor was leaking. As temperatures soared beyond what instruments could measure, displaying only "???" instead of readings, the core reached 4,300 degrees-just 700 degrees short of a catastrophic meltdown that would have sent radioactive material into the Susquehanna River and atmosphere.
This catastrophe connects directly to modern design problems. The same fundamental issues plague everything from smartphone apps to cable boxes-when machines fail to communicate clearly with humans. Donald Norman, who coined the term "user experience" in the 1990s, investigated Three Mile Island and recognized it as revealing a critical gap between technology and psychology. Control rooms were often designed as afterthoughts, with some even built as mirror images of each other for cost savings, forcing operators to work in a "bizarro world" on alternating days.
Norman's career bridged academic research on human error with practical design applications. His famous book "The Design of Everyday Things" examines how everyday objects from doorknobs to teakettles often fail users. His core insight was revolutionary: humans might make errors, but they aren't wrong-designers must accommodate human limitations rather than expect perfect behavior.
The principles that emerged from studying catastrophic failures like Three Mile Island now inform how we design everyday technology. Today, Reactor 1 operates with a completely redesigned control room featuring consistent blue lights, visible indicators, and control panels mapped to mirror the reactor's physical systems. Workers now operate in pairs, providing verbal feedback to confirm actions-essentially making humans behave like buttons to prevent errors. This transformation represents the shift from machines that doom operators to make mistakes to our user-friendly world today, where even the most advanced AI can be made intuitive without instruction manuals.
第 3 章
The Birth of Human-Centered Design
Henry Dreyfuss's upbringing in the progressive Society for Ethical Culture shaped his practical approach to design. After losing his father at sixteen, he embraced the society's secular philosophy that morality came from personal choice rather than divine guidance. His Broadway career began when he boldly approached director Joseph Plunkett, declaring his sets "rotten" and offering to do better. His success in theater design taught him that audience reactions followed predictable patterns-"certain combinations of color, light, and line would bring a wave of applause."
Dissatisfied with theater work, Dreyfuss discovered industrial design, a field pioneered by Walter Dorwin Teague and Norman Bel Geddes. America's industrial transformation had accelerated after World War I, building on Henry Ford's assembly line innovations that reduced car manufacturing time from twelve hours to ninety minutes. When peace returned, America faced both opportunity and anxiety about its creative capabilities. The 1925 Exposition International des Arts Decoratifs in Paris highlighted this insecurity when the US declined to participate, with Secretary of Commerce Herbert Hoover explaining American manufacturers felt they lacked "unique character or special expression in American artistry."
Meanwhile, the rise of home economics, championed by journalists like Christine Frederick of Ladies' Home Journal, transformed American consumerism. Frederick applied Frederick Winslow Taylor's "scientific management" principles to housework, encouraging women to "eliminate lost motion" and standardize chores to create more free time for "individuality and independence." Mary Pattison expanded this thinking by emphasizing women's "moral responsibility" to demand better tools through purchasing power.
Businesses were discovering that aesthetics drove sales-KitchenAid reported a 100% sales increase after redesigning their mixer to be lighter and more attractive. Even Henry Ford, who famously offered Model Ts "in any color so long as it's black," was forced to adapt when General Motors' varied offerings cut his market share in half by 1926.
Dreyfuss's most revolutionary idea came when he realized: "Why not use man as the starting point for all design, even to the extent of drawing human figures into the blueprints?" He and his wife Doris created "Joe" and "Josephine," detailed drawings of average men and women that became the foundation of his design philosophy. Inspired by Leonardo da Vinci's Vitruvian Man, these figures placed humans at the center of the designed universe, with objects flowing around them rather than vice versa.
Dreyfuss's most enduring design may be the Bell Model 500 telephone, whose form lives on in today's smartphone call icons. Despite his successes, by the 1970s, hundreds of competing design firms had emerged, many willing to merely prettify products rather than solve fundamental problems. In 1972, while working on street sign designs for New York magazine, Dreyfuss and his wife Doris (who had liver cancer) made a suicide pact. One evening, dressed in formal attire, they drank champagne in their garage with the car running, choosing to leave a world that seemed to need them less.
第 4 章
The Science of Human Error
World War II amplified concerns about machines failing their human operators. While the war accelerated technological innovation-from biplanes to stealth jets-these advancements often outpaced human capacity to use them effectively. Radar's reach expanded monthly, yet performance rarely matched engineers' promises because no codified understanding existed of how to make machines comprehensible to users. The toll was counted in lives lost when technology stopped making sense. Engineers blamed poor training; soldiers blamed designers creating "electro-mechanical marvels" requiring "three arms and ability to see around corners in pitch darkness."
Paul Fitts, a Tennessee-born psychologist with a doctorate in experimental psychology, was tasked with investigating airplane crashes after the war. Rather than accepting the standard explanation of "pilot error," Fitts discovered patterns in the crashes that suggested something else was happening. His colleague Alphonse Chapanis introduced the revolutionary concept of "designer error," identifying how poor design caused accidents. In the B-17 Flying Fortress, identical toggle switches for landing gear and wing flaps placed side-by-side led to 457 crashes in just 22 months. Chapanis's solutions-shape-coding knobs for tactile identification, standardizing instrument positions, and ensuring controls moved in "psychologically natural" directions-became foundational principles still governing design today.
The field of "psychophysics" yielded crucial wartime innovations, including the discovery that amplifying consonants while reducing vowels doubled radio range. As battles were fought at increasing speeds, the need to understand situations without time for deliberation became paramount. This extended beyond warfare-civilian cars often had unlabeled buttons and dials that all looked identical. The challenge shifted from merely physical ergonomics to mental understanding-users needed to intuit how machines worked.
With the draft bringing in diverse recruits and increasingly specialized machines emerging, it became impossible to match specific people to specific tasks. Instead, machines had to become universally easier to use, marking the birth of ergonomics and the principle that technology should adapt to humans, not the other way around.
America's industrial designers survived the war years through government contracts-Raymond Loewy worked on Army camouflage, William Dorwin Teague designed Navy rocket launchers, and Henry Dreyfuss applied human factors principles to military equipment. Dreyfuss's work on tank cockpit chairs, where he immersed himself by actually driving tanks, led to his postwar obsession with human-centered design.
The disciplines Dreyfuss helped pioneer evolved into human factors, human-machine interaction, and cognitive psychology-fields that collectively birthed modern user experience design. This shift represented a profound intellectual change: seeing humans as they are, with all their limitations, rather than as idealized rational beings. As Robert Fabricant observed, design's true material isn't aluminum or carbon fiber-it's human behavior.
第 5 章
Building Trust Between Humans and Machines
During a 2016 test drive in an Audi A7, I experienced the car taking control after a nuclear-inspired two-button activation sequence. The steering wheel moved independently with uncanny precision as the car navigated traffic. When another driver cut us off, the Audi calmly adjusted without incident. Despite the novelty, the experience quickly became boring-a testament to how seamlessly the technology worked. The engineer noted, "The first three minutes you're thinking, This is crazy, this is the future! Then you get bored."
The transition to autonomous vehicles hasn't always been smooth. A viral video showed a Dominican Republic car dealership demonstration gone wrong when someone tested Volvo's pedestrian-detection feature on a car that didn't have the option installed, resulting in a collision. Similarly, Tesla's 2015 Autopilot software update led to videos of near-accidents when drivers misunderstood the system's limitations.
Brian Lathrop developed a "three plus one" design philosophy for autonomous vehicles: 1) clearly indicate what mode the car is in (self-driving or manual), 2) signal what the car will do before it acts (the coffee-spilling principle), 3) show what the car is seeing, and 4) create perfectly clear transitions when control shifts between human and machine. These principles were demonstrated in Audi's A7 test vehicle, where lights around the windshield changed color during handoffs, a countdown timer announced lane changes, and a console screen displayed surrounding vehicles.
The principles of building trust extend beyond cars to other assistive technologies. Fuseproject's muscle-augmenting suit for the elderly faced a critical design challenge: if it simply took over movements, users would feel like marionettes, reinforcing their loss of control. The solution was a subtle interface where motors gave a slight buzz before engaging, allowing wearers to confirm actions by placing their hands on the relevant motors-embedding feedback into natural movements.
Sociologist Clifford Nass discovered that humans unconsciously treat computers as social actors. In his experiments, people were more polite when rating a computer's performance on the machine they had used versus a different one. They responded positively to computers that praised them, even knowing the praise was meaningless, and showed preference for computers matching their assigned color groups. Despite denying they would be polite to machines, humans consistently applied social rules to technology.
Our expectations of machines mirror our expectations of human interactions. Just as passengers want drivers to demonstrate awareness and communicate intentions, users need machines to show they understand the environment and signal upcoming actions. This follows philosopher Paul Grice's conversational maxims: be truthful, relevant, clear, and appropriately concise.
When Volkswagen researchers tested pedestrian reactions to autonomous vehicles, they expected fear or extreme caution. Instead, they discovered surprising fearlessness-people blithely stepped in front of the driverless car. Despite the team's careful design of LED displays showing the car recognized pedestrians and indicating when crossing was safe, pedestrians largely ignored these signals. What mattered most was that the car behaved in a socially acceptable, respectful manner. As Glaser noted, "The physical driving behavior of the car is actually its own human-machine interface. It turns out, the personality of the car is something you have to program."
第 6 章
The Power of Metaphors in Design
In Delhi's GP Block Pitampura slum, Renuka couldn't conceptualize what the internet was despite owning a cell phone. Unlike Westerners who gradually absorbed internet metaphors like "World Wide Web" and "links," these users lacked mental models to understand the technology. The metaphors that helped Westerners comprehend the internet-sailing and library references that explained not just what it was but what it could become-were absent for users like Renuka.
Lakoff and Johnson's radical insight was that thinking without metaphors is virtually impossible. Our metaphors are grounded in physical intuitions about the world-like "up" meaning "consciousness" in phrases like "I'm up already." Metaphors provide webs of inference explaining how things work; they're like instruction manuals that teach without explicit instruction. The email "inbox" borrows logic from physical mail, suggesting we should check everything, while social media "feeds" and "streams" imply information flowing whether we're present or not.
When Toyota's Prius disrupted the auto industry with triple the fuel efficiency of typical cars, Ford rushed hybrid vehicles to market but struggled with driver experience. Their battery gauge encouraged counterproductive braking habits as drivers tried to "charge" their batteries. Working with IDEO, Ford's team found inspiration from a hyper-miler ultramarathoner who compared good driving feedback to coaching. The solution was a dashboard with growing green leaves that responded to driving efficiency-a metaphor that made drivers care about "growing" their virtual plant.
The desktop metaphor transformed computing from command lines to intuitive interfaces. Jobs leveraged Xerox's investment interest to gain access to their Smalltalk operating system. Bill Atkinson, blinded by dedication, wielded soft power at Apple-once complaining about a colleague who was gone the next day.
When Atkinson and Jobs visited Xerox, researcher Adele Goldberg was furious about sharing their work. During the demo, Atkinson misinterpreted what he saw-believing Smalltalk had figured out how to layer windows realistically. This misunderstanding led him to create the soul of the Mac: a system that could instantly redraw "hidden" regions, making the interface feel like manipulating real objects.
Apple's trillion-dollar empire was built on three revolutionary interfaces: the Macintosh OS, iPod click wheel, and iPhone touchscreen. Interfaces determine technological dominance-IBM ruled with punch-card mainframes until graphical interfaces transformed Apple and Microsoft into giants. The iPod's click wheel saved Apple in the late 1990s by solving the problem of browsing long lists. Even Amazon's empire grew from an interface innovation: 1-Click shopping, which eliminated checkout steps and reduced cart abandonment while keeping customers logged in to build user profiles.
Technology advances as metaphors stretch to their limits and break. Apple's skeuomorphic designs eventually became unnecessary decorative flourishes. When Jony Ive took over software design in 2013, he introduced a cleaner interface language, recognizing that users no longer needed physical-world metaphors.
George Lakoff and Mark Johnson's work on metaphor challenged Cartesian dualism by suggesting our ideas emerge not from pure reason but from bodily sensations. This "embodied cognition" theory proposes metaphors reflect how our minds are structured through physical experience. Experimental psychology provides compelling evidence: people holding warm coffee judge others as more trustworthy; those thinking about the future lean slightly forward; participants using heavier clipboards give more serious answers to questions.
第 7 章
Designing with Empathy
In a classic Simpsons episode, Homer designs a car for his long-lost brother Herb's company that becomes a disastrous monstrosity-echoing Ford's real-life Edsel failure. Despite extensive consumer research, the Edsel flopped because its creators couldn't bridge the gap between general polling data and specific user desires.
This problem highlighted the need for systematized empathy in design. Even influential designers like Henry Dreyfuss lacked formal processes for understanding users beyond their own intuitions. The question remained: how could you know what to invent without relying solely on genius vision?
Design thinking, user-centered design, and user experience would eventually emerge as forms of industrialized empathy-processes that help innovators immerse themselves in others' lives. These approaches have shaped countless products from Gmail features to the DVR's rewind button to children's toothbrushes with fat handles.
Bob McKim, disillusioned with Henry Dreyfuss's firm, explored radical creativity methods at Stanford in the 1960s. Following John Arnold's "Arcturus IV" approach, McKim experimented with mescaline and became involved with Esalen, the coastal retreat asking: "What would human potential look like if you took away fear and conformity?"
His star student David Kelley embraced this philosophy when developing an in-home VD test idea. Hospital staff laughed at his solution but showed him their real problem: irretrievably misfiled patient records. "I realized that it was a creative act, talking to people," Kelley said. "I had to actually feel the need of a person."
Jane Fulton Suri pioneered a new approach to design research while investigating lawn mower accidents for Britain's office of public safety. Rather than relying on vague accident reports or lab simulations, she visited victims in their homes to understand what actually happened. Through these interviews, Fulton Suri discovered that people used products in ways designers never anticipated: grabbing chain saw guards as handles or pushing lawn mowers back-and-forth like vacuum cleaners.
By the 1980s, design had strayed from problem-solving toward styling. Silicon Valley's revolution created new opportunities, with influential firms like IDEO prioritizing experience over appearance. Personal computing transformed the industry. Apple became a crucial client for design studios remaking the profession-David Kelley's proto-IDEO worked on Apple's first mouse, while Frog Design created Apple's "Snow White" design language.
Unlike static objects, software-enabled products created narratives that changed over time. This required designers to understand people's lives deeply. Alan Cooper developed "personas"-idealized composite users-but Jane Fulton Suri preferred studying actual human behavior. Her genius was noticing meaningful details-boys making swings from boiler room doorways or cacti used as noticeboards-that revealed unmet needs.
Tim Brown realized people's stated wants often differed from their actual needs. IDEO developed three key principles: studying human behavior, rapidly prototyping, and eliminating hierarchy. Their open office fostered collaboration, with roughly equal salaries and a culture that embraced failure as learning. Initially clients were baffled, but IDEO's methods became standard practice across industries from healthcare to government.
第 8 章
Designing for Human Diversity
On December 9, 1968, Doug Engelbart gave what would become known as the "Mother of All Demos"-a presentation that predicted nearly every major computing development for the next fifty years. Speaking nervously to an audience of computing experts at the Fall Joint Computer Conference in San Francisco, Engelbart demonstrated a computer that could edit text on screen, link documents with hypertext, combine text with graphics and video, share files, and communicate via videophone. He controlled an on-screen cursor (which he called a "bug") with a handheld puck. The audience, accustomed only to punch cards and typewriter terminals, erupted in applause after his 90-minute presentation. Engelbart had sketched the future of computing: the mouse, teleconferencing, email, windowed interfaces, hyperlinks, and the internet.
Engelbart's journey began in 1945 when, inspired by Vannevar Bush's essay "As We May Think," he envisioned computers as personal assistants that could augment human intelligence. While Engelbart saw machines as tools to serve humanity, others like MIT's Marvin Minsky believed computers should become minds themselves-an ideological battle that echoes the earlier tensions between ergonomics and human factors.
In 2010, Steve Jobs discovered Siri, an app born at SRI (Engelbart's old stomping grounds) that transformed the metaphorical computer assistant into a literal voice interface. When Microsoft's Derrick Connell visited China around 2012, he noticed people using voice interfaces as their primary way to interact with phones-not just for communication but as gateways to digital services. Unlike Westerners with desktop computing backgrounds, Chinese users without those legacy metaphors embraced chat as their natural entry point to technology.
August de los Reyes's life changed when he suffered a spinal injury after falling from his luxurious new bed. After months of recovery, he returned to his role at Xbox with a new perspective on disability-seeing it not as a personal limitation but as a design problem. Working with Kat Holmes at Microsoft, de los Reyes developed a radical approach to empathy in design. History shows that disability has often driven innovation: Pellegrino Turri created the first typewriter for his blind lover, Alexander Graham Bell invented the telephone while helping the deaf, and Vint Cerf developed email protocols partly to communicate with his deaf wife.
Patricia Moore pioneered empathetic design by simulating being elderly, influencing firms like IDEO and Smart Design. At Microsoft, August de los Reyes and Kat Holmes applied universal design principles, creating innovations that helped everyone-from dyslexic-friendly fonts to real-time captioning in Skype that evolved into language translation.
Microsoft's inclusive design principles evolved into their framework for artificial intelligence design. By studying human personal assistants, they developed guidelines for Cortana that emphasized transparency, honesty about limitations, and respecting user preferences. These principles-"humans are the heroes," "honor societal values," and "evolve over time"-helped fix issues like PowerPoint's Designer feature, which initially felt uncanny by seeming to know better than users.
第 9 章
The Dark Side of User-Friendly Design
The Like button-the most ubiquitous interface of the twenty-first century-began with a friendship between Justin Rosenstein and Leah Pearlman at Facebook in 2007. They noticed users were "feed-bombing" (taking screenshots of posts and reposting them) and wanted to create an easier way to spread ideas. Initially called the "Awesome button," they envisioned it as a simple way to express positivity without typing repetitive comments. This innovation introduced an entirely new model of digital feedback that affirmed content rather than merely rating it, eventually spreading across the internet in various forms from hearts to emojis.
Rosenstein, who became worth hundreds of millions from Facebook stock but promised to give it away, admits the Like button succeeded "beyond our wildest imagination" while having consequences ranging from "natural to pretty harmful." Despite his disciplined lifestyle-arranging water glasses on his desk, scheduling meditation breaks, and blocking time for focused work-even he confesses to being addicted to notifications, checking his phone compulsively despite knowing better.
B.F. Skinner's childhood experiments-training himself with pulleys and flags to hang up pajamas-foreshadowed his revolutionary work in behavioral psychology. After abandoning novel-writing ambitions, Skinner created his famous "box" at Harvard, a chamber where animals learned to press levers for food rewards. His most troubling discovery was that random, unpredictable rewards created far more compulsive behavior than predictable ones-explaining gambling addiction and eventually, our relationship with technology. This "variable reward" mechanism triggers dopamine rushes when outcomes surprise us, the same circuitry activated by drugs.
User-friendliness evolved from making things easier to use into making them usable without thought, and finally into making them irresistible. While early user-centered design recognized human limitations, Silicon Valley transformed these insights into addiction machines. Stanford professor B.J. Fogg's formula-motivation, trigger, ability-resembled Skinner's conditioning but applied to digital products.
Facebook doesn't spread information so much as affirmation. Through the Like button and algorithms tracking engagement, we're cocooned in beliefs that match our own. Lies spread better than truth-a post falsely claiming the pope endorsed Trump received 868,000 Facebook shares while its debunking got only 33,000. Beyond Western democracies, Facebook's design facilitated genocide in Myanmar, anti-Muslim violence in Sri Lanka, and lynchings across multiple countries. As one Sri Lankan official put it, "The germs are ours, but Facebook is the wind."
Michal Kosinski's research revealed that algorithms could predict race with 95% accuracy and political affiliations at nearly 90% using just Facebook likes. Cambridge Analytica later claimed to have profiled 220 million Americans, testing thousands of ads daily during the 2016 election. A leaked Facebook document suggested the company could target teens precisely when they felt "insecure" or "worthless," though Facebook denied offering such tools.
Modern technology has achieved the design goal of making everything seem "inevitable"-so well-anticipated that we don't see the design at all. But this seamlessness creates opacity-the more frictionless an experience becomes, the harder it is to understand how it works. The automation paradox shows that as machines handle more tasks, humans become less capable of performing those tasks themselves. Similarly, the "user-friendly paradox" means that as devices become easier to use, they grow more mysterious-enhancing our capability to do what we want while diminishing our ability to determine whether what we want is worth doing.
第 10 章
Designing for a Better Future
Growing up in the Democratic Republic of the Congo, Leslie Saholy Ossete discovered entrepreneurship at age six by selling her drawings to classmates. Born to educated middle-class parents who supplemented their income with side businesses, she internalized the idea that entrepreneurship could "start something from nothing and make everyone better off."
When Ossete heard about the million-dollar Hult Prize for social innovation, she assembled a team to tackle the challenge of doubling 10 million people's income by connecting them to needed services. Team member Wycliffe Onyango Omondi's personal experience with unreliable buses in Kenya-nearly missing a crucial visa interview that would enable his scholarship-revealed the true problem wasn't insufficient buses but poor organization. Bus drivers, renting vehicles for fixed daily fees regardless of passenger count, would wait at stops until enough passengers boarded to ensure profitability. This created a cascade of delays affecting education, healthcare access, and economic opportunity throughout Kenya.
Their solution, Magic Ticketing, leveraged existing mental models from Kenya's M-Pesa mobile payment system. Passengers could purchase tickets via SMS, providing bus drivers real-time data about passenger demand and creating incentives to complete routes efficiently. The system eliminated cash transactions and their associated risks while giving passengers information about bus locations. After winning the $1 million prize, they tested with 2,000 riders who booked over 5,000 tickets, with plans to expand to 29 cities across 11 nations.
Magic Bus Ticketing exemplifies how user-friendly design has evolved beyond physical objects. Built on familiar interfaces and mental models of mobile phones and text messaging, it creates civil infrastructure without requiring traditional governmental management. With mobile technology, services now reach users directly through pixels and user experiences rather than physical stores or sales representatives, fundamentally changing how companies must approach design.
User-friendly design has succeeded in making diverse functions accessible through consistent tools and paradigms. Now this approach extends beyond products to services like healthcare, where Frog designed an app and chatbot for Cigna that demystifies insurance using an adviser metaphor. Even institutions like the Gates Foundation employ design thinking to identify the right problems to solve, while Finland's government experimentation unit uses prototyping and user testing for public services.
Designers increasingly question whether they've made the world better by creating more things. One Apple designer who helped create the iPhone was shocked to find his entire family absorbed in their devices during a holiday gathering, wondering "What have I done?" Justin Rosenstein, co-creator of the Like button, now builds collaboration software at Asana that makes teams 45% more efficient-helping everything from aid organizations to biotech companies developing antibiotics.
The objects we create don't just make our lives easier-they change who we are. Cognitive scientist Andy Clark argues that human minds extend beyond our skulls, incorporating tools like pen and paper, calendars, and computers to think thoughts otherwise impossible. This means designers literally give form to thoughts that allow others to become more than they were.
The most inspiring innovators are those making wild bets on new ecosystems. One young Canadian entrepreneur envisioned a digital amulet that would hold all your data, apps and services, while screens around you would simply be dumb commodities for accessing this information-challenging Apple's business model of selling redundant devices. Another visionary, Linden Tibbets, founded IFTTT (If This Then That) after being inspired by how humans naturally repurpose objects in their environment. His service allows users to connect digital services through simple "if-then" recipes, enabling people to hack their digital world in ways previously impossible-like brewing coffee when your Fitbit senses you've awoken. These innovations represent new metaphors that break apart the seamless bundles of technology, revealing that nothing about our current technological ecosystem is inevitable. The things we make reflect our values, and those values can change.
